Less walks means more pictures

Once again, my forehead is in the way of an otherwise adorable picture...
Yes, this bathtime picture has been cropped to protect the innocent.
His new favorite state of being: in his Jumperoo! Even though it's more like a Dangle-roo, since his feet have a couple inches to go before they touch the ground, even on the lowest setting.
And for the finale of these latest pictures, his future's so bright, he's gotta wear shades.
NNW
THREE MONTHS and change
where has the time gone

A week in the life...

This week's Patriot's game wear. The hat was a bit tight the last time - so I promised him I wouldn't squeeze it onto his noggin again.
We thought the sink might be less awkward to handle our little (growing) man than his baby tub. There is no easy way to handle a bathing baby.

Taking advantage of mild temperatures and cleared sidewalks... before the latest storm.

Webber usually doesn't weather a daytime nap transfer to another surface - usually sleeps on me after nursing, or in the Bjorn during a walk outside, or around the house. Not only did I capture this rare successful daytime put down, but he's in the cradle that Baby Nate used, with Nate's childhood red ball nearby. That he still likes to toss around when he's doing some of his best thinking.

And finally... "Who are you... and what have you done with my feet?"
NNW
12 and a half weeks

Rainy Day Photo Session

I'd like to thank you all for coming out tonight.
I would've come to you but I'm still working on my Tummy Time, let alone crawling or walking.

I think you'll enjoy this story as I reminisce about my youth. Please, come closer.



That's better. See? I don't bite. Yet...

It was several days ago, early 2008. In my youth. So I'm minding my own business, when this older woman - she looked a weathered 14 weeks, give or take a few days - comes up to me, and says, "Hey buddy, you got a rattle?

Okay, okay, by "comes up to me" I mean, someone put her there. But that's neither here nor there. So, she asks me for a rattle. And I say,

"What do you intend to do with said rattle? That I may or may not have? You know, those things can be dangerous. Haven't you heard you can hit yourself in the face with them if you're not careful?"

She begs me, "Please, please, I only want to shake it a couple times. Come on, don't tease me! I saw you holding one earlier - you're hiding it behind your Bumbo!" She had worked up quite a lather of drool. It was bubbling even more than mine.

"Hey hey, lady, don't get your diaper in a bind. I was just yankin' your onesie. Yes, I'll share my rattle with you. It's not like you can run away with it or anything."


So I hand her my rattle.

She gave it more like seven shakes, but I didn't mind. I could tell she needed it, and besides, it was nice to hang out with someone who communicated with methods other than singing real and improvisational songs all day long. And asking me, in a high-pitched voice while making ridiculous faces, my opinion on everything. Like if I think we should go upstairs, or go get the mail, or have lunch. Or asking me to confirm everything that just happened. Like if I had just tooted again in my diaper. And if I had tooted in my diaper, telling me that I did a good job of it. Really now.


So I say to her, "You want to get out of here? I know a place where you can really bust a move."

To my delight, she says sure. She makes me promise to bring the rattle with us.

Sweet.

Then she asks, "How do we get there?"


Shoot.

Awkward.

Umm, "Mommm??"
(The following was said using that special TV voice that is loud enough for the intended person in the other room to hear, but not the person sitting a foot away, as long as they're off screen.)

"Could you get me out of this thing? And ask my friend's mom to do the same for her? And hold us on your laps and sing to us, something real jazzy-like? And bounce us around and make us dance? And then, when I nod/wobble my head to the left two times, could you make me do that special move that we've been working on? I think she'll be really impressed."

"But first, could you change my diaper? I just tooted. It's a really good one, too."


"Thanks, Mom! You're the best!"

NNW
12 weeks 1 day

My new motto...

...better late than never.

Here are some more Webber pics...
The first one shows one of the cutest Christmas gifts ever: a box of Nate's little boy clothes, for Webber to wear someday.
Second: yes, that is a big Santa on his stomach. Yes, Daddy thought it was ridiculous.
Third: The Sylvester family line-up.


First: My sisters and Webber, and me.
Second and Third: best attempts at capturing his increasingly frequent smiles.


Last but not least... priceless :)
NNW
Almost 12 weeks!

Go Patriots

I wondered aloud a couple weeks ago if Webber would like football, and specifically the Patriots.


Stupid Mom. "OF COURSE HE WILL!" Nate told me, wild with disbelief that I would suggest such a crazy notion.

No choice kid, no choice.
NNW

A Christmas Story

All I wanted for Christmas 2007 was for
my son to be healthy
-check-
my son to smile
-check-
and to eat freshly baked cinnamon rolls
-check.

But you know how every year, there's one gift you really want, but don't dare to ask for, because you know you should just be thankful for what you have, because the season is about giving, not receiving, and because who do you think you are, making a grocery list of things you want for Christmas, expecting Santa to make special exceptions for you?

So you tell yourself that really, you'll be okay if you don't get it, that really, you are thankful for all the wonderful other things you've gotten, and that really, you enjoy seeing the delight on people's faces when you give them the gifts that you thought of especially for them.

And you tuck that special Christmas wish away in your heart, never to utter to anyone what a grandiose wish a soul like you would ever harbor.

Well, I will admit to having a wish like that this Christmas. It was only an addendum to the list that existed in my head. I would have denied it if anyone accused me of having such wanton desires. Even though my former self would have considered this a rather modest request.

But here I am, teary as I reflect on my moment of realization this morning when I saw that my secret wish had come true.

As I woke from the sound of my son crying, I squinted at the red glowing numbers of the alarm clock, and calculated. He knew that my true Christmas wish was for him to sleep for 6 hours in a row. And sleep for 6 hours he did.

Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night.

NNW

Our Little Boy Gets Bigger...

The 2-month check-up report:
ELEVEN POUNDS THREE OUNCES!!
and 22 inches long!

Each cheek weighs one pound.

I'd say our little "peanut" has come a long way from 5 lbs. 13 ounces, 18 inches.

I guess it wasn't my imagination that he really was getting bigger, or the laundry shrinking his clothes...

I also survived him getting his shots :(
and he did fine, too.

That's all for now.
Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get plenty of priceless Christmas pictures to share.
NNW

Love Those Cheeks

This picture taken with the DaddyCam. I wonder if Webber will have the same impressive wingspan that his dad does.
I can't resist the bath pictures. That's the primary reason Webber gets a bath around here. Why else would we strip him down and put him in a bin of water in this freezing house? Just kidding - Daddy lets us turn the heat up to 68 for bath time.

And finally, a little comparison to how Webber fits into the outfit he wore home from the hospital. Here he his featured in it with Aunt Punchy at 10 days old.







And here he is, busting out of the seams (close enough), at one day shy of 2 months. (click pictures to enlarge)








Good work, Webber!
NNW

Just like the Old Days

WE LOVE WALKS.

It had been a while since I'd taken a self-portrait of my side-view. It's a different look than the belly pics, isn't it? I'm more top-heavy these days, on account of carrying our son in the Baby Bjorn, a device that I own thanks to my sister Emi.


Yes, Webber is inside my coat. Plus a few other layers. I'm set on making this arrangement work as long as my coat is big enough to zip and snap the bottom half shut.

I've determined that The Boy has now grown big enough to fit into the Bjorn, which is just a nice variety from the sling. This device is the new mutual best friend of Webber's and mine. Not only does it mean that we can get out of this lovely box we call our home and get some fresh air together, but it means that we can also move around the lovely box together more easily, and allow me to do really exciting things with two hands like I used to, like: unload the dishwasher (oooh!), fold laundry (ahhh!), and sweep up the cat hair (okay, I tried it once).

It also comes in handy when the little man wants to be walked around just for the sake of walking around and my arms would otherwise fall off from walking around for the sheer amount of time that he would like me to walk him around. Around the dining room table. Into the kitchen. Out of the kitchen. There's a whole downstairs circuit, not to be confused with the upstairs circuit. And for extra points, you can connect the two circuits and walk up and down our creaky stairs and burn a few extra calories that have been sneaking onto your thighs during the rest of your time that is spent sitting and feeding. Okay, maybe those are my thighs, not yours.

We Bjorned (yes, I'm making it a verb) around the downstairs circuit for quite a while the other night, or should I say morning, when Webber informed me that instead of dutifully going back to sleep after his 2am feeding, he would like to remain WIDE awake, and that he wanted, surprise surprise, to be walked around. I title the pictures below, "Greetings from 4:29am". It's a splendid time of day.
















And a big blog high five to anyone who can tell me how many calories are burned per hour of chair-rocking. WHILE breastfeeding, no less. AND holding a magazine.

Are you sensing a little cabin fever? Well I hope so, because I'm pleased to have had the appropriate amount of time available to paint the picture. This blog entry has been brought to you with the help of our friend the Boppy: another wonderful device that lets you type with two hands like you used to in the old days. Okay, those are my two hands and my old days. As long as he is content to feed and sleep while laying on the Boppy, and can hold off on his need to be walked around for just a little longer, Mommy can blog.

This belated segue from the cabin-fever topic is that Mommy and Daddy had their first legitimate date night last weekend.

Okay, it was for Daddy's company's annual holiday party at the Elks Lodge...

But how often do you have a date night when the meal and one drink, with the redemption of your drink ticket, is paid for?

It was all I could do to refrain from writing with lipstick on my forehead, "MOMMY'S FIRST NIGHT OUT SINCE THE BIRTH OF HER LOVELY SON. HE IS 7 WEEKS 2 DAYS OLD. NO, I DIDN'T BRING PICTURES. NO, HE'S NOT SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT YET. NOW THEN, WHAT TOPIC OF ADULT CONVERSATION WOULD YOU LIKE TO ENGAGE IN WITH ME? TRUST ME, NO TOPIC IS TOO DULL. I REPEAT, THIS IS MOMMY'S FIRST NIGHT OUT." I decided against it. Even with my forehead, there just wasn't enough room.

I never knew the Elks Lodge could be such a magical place. Filled with so many adults. Who clean themselves after they go to bathroom. And do not spit up on your shoulder. Although, they will walk away from you if you sing Christmas carols or the Name Game song to them. Free-thinkers, those adults.

And I was able to talk to, and dance with, my husband while neither of us were on Walk-With- or Dance-With-Webber-Duty. He is a charming man. He even treated me to my second glass of wine - the one that he did not have a drink ticket for.

I pumped milk for 2 weeks in preparation for the night out. There is now a very modest stash of this Ice Freedom in our freezer. But I'm still holding out on using it for frivolous things like grocery shopping without The Boy, or going to see a movie without The Boy. I'm saving it up for our second adult night out at a holiday party tomorrow night.

A big thanks goes out to my dad for sitting/walking around with Webber last week so that I could walk in town to get a hair cut. I didn't care how it came out, it was the best hair cut I ever got. I think I even skipped a little bit on the way home. That is, until I realized, an hour after leaving my house, that I forgot to bring my cell phone with me. YIKES. I guess I'm a little new at this being-separated-from-my-son thing.

Thanks to my mom and Steve for babysitting last weekend - thanks to our Freedom in a Bottle, she made it through the evening unscathed by any Webber hickeys. And thanks in advance to Nate's parents for tomorrow night. I'll try to remember to bring the cell phone. I'm still getting used to how weird it feels to tell my parents to "help themselves to anything in the fridge; here's what he sleeps in; we think we'll be home by 11pm."

Okay, his marathon nap has ended...
It's been fun, everyone.

And really, there are many moments of this parenthood thing that are truly fun, too. It gets more and more fun with every new fat roll that Webber grows, and every new facial expression that he makes, enhanced by his steadily growing jowls.

Nicky, Nate and Webber

I know, I know...

...It's been a painfully long time since the last posting. I'm happy to report that Webber successfully passed his driver's test last week.

So although this first picture is rather revealing, it was the best one to show off his thigh rolls, which we're very proud of. A sign of determined eating!











The next one was taken before we left to attend his second craft fair of the season - he loves them!







One of the happy family...





And one that looks like he crashed one of mommy and daddy's college parties. After his bath, of course.
Nicky, Nate and Webber
7 weeks 1 day